The Blake Adventures: God Only Knows
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: Jean and Lucien and their children face troubles of aging and family, both for themselves and for the tragic slaughter of a family with a dark secret. Valerie and Johnny are getting older and bring new joys and challenges for their parents.
1. Chapter 1

**Blake Adventures: God Only Knows**

_December 1969_

Jean Blake was a bit stressed, to say the least. Things had taken a bit longer at the shops than she'd anticipated. Valerie knew they were going shopping for Christmas presents, though obviously Jean would have to buy things for Valerie and Johnny when the children weren't with her, but Valerie was running around pointing out all the things she wanted from Father Christmas: a chemistry set, every book she could think of, a puppy, this doll and that one, a new dress, a pair of patent leather mary jane shoes, on and on and on. And no matter how many times Jean told her to put it in her letter to Father Christmas, she kept finding new things she wanted.

Johnny was slightly better behaved, though he usually was. He held on to his mother's hand and stayed quiet. He was a much quieter child than Valerie. She took after her father, it seemed, while Johnny took more after his mother. But even Johnny was reaching his limit. He was too big for Jean to carry about or put in the pram; he'd just had his fourth birthday and was growing big and strong like his dad every day. He was only four, though, and the long afternoon was creeping into his normal naptime. Jean could tell he was starting to get a bit fussy, but she had to finish her shopping before she could take them home.

"Valerie, would you please calm down?" Jean begged. She was usually firm and fair and gentle with her children, but such better instinct were starting to fail her.

"But I want to show you this book I want!" Valerie whined.

Before Jean could respond, Johnny started tugging on her hand. "I want to go home," he told her. "I don't want to be here, I want to go home."

The anxious tone in his voice only meant one thing, and Jean braced herself for it. "Shh, Johnny," she soothed in vain, stroking his curly blonde hair. "We'll go home soon.

"I want to go home, I want to go home, I WANT TO GO HOME!"

And there it was. The emotional outburst of an exhaustion-induced tantrum. Johnny's face was red and he was crying and shouting and violently pulling on Jean's hand.

"Come look at this book!" Valerie shouted over her brother's tirade.

One of the workers in the bookshop came by to see what the racket was. It was not Lilian or Mark, the married couple who owned and run the shop. This woman was probably about Jean's age. Possibly a new worker. "Pardon me, anything I can do to help?" she asked kindly.

Jean sighed in exasperation, embarrassed beyond belief over the commotion her children were causing. People were staring and Jean herself felt like she was about a minute away from her own temper tantrum. "Could you please hold these for me? I'll be back tomorrow to pay for them. The name is Blake."

The woman took the stack of books—all intended to be gifts for Mattie and Alice and Charlie—with an understanding smile. The woman then bent down to Valerie's level. "You be sweet to your granny, now, I'm sure she's got sweets for you at her house."

"I'm their mother," Jean snapped, her embarrassment increasing tenfold and her outrage beyond measure.

The woman stood up and looked to Valerie and the still-crying Johnny and then to Jean with her brow raised in disbelief. "I apologize."

Jean did not respond to her. She instead let go of Johnny's hand and scooped him into her arms. "Hush now, sweet boy, we're going home." She turned behind her and barked, "Valerie, we are going to the car right now and if I hear one more word about that book, you'll get none of them for Christmas." Jean carried her son, not allowing anyone to see that he was far too heavy for her, and marched out of the shop with Valerie scurrying along behind her.

In less than an hour, they were back home Johnny was fast asleep in his room and Valerie was playing alone in her room and Jean had practically collapsed on the sofa. She was less harried than she'd been in the shop, now that there was a bit of quiet surrounding her. But the whole scene played over and over in her head. Tears pricked her eyes as Jean let the reality of it flood her. She was too old to be doing this. She knew how she looked, a woman over fifty with two young children. Her own granddaughter was older than Valerie. Their family was marvelously imperfectly wonderful, and Jean would not have traded any one of them for anything in the world. But she did not have the energy required to manage it all. And it wasn't fair to her children—any of them—that they had a mother who was too tired and old to be all she should be for them.

Lucien wasn't ever bothered by any of it, Jean knew. He would be sixty before Johnny was ten, and his hair and beard were grayer than anything else now. But he was so strong and attractive and virile, even still. That man had the energy of someone half his age, and Jean did not know how he did it. It wasn't fair, really.

In the midst of the quiet house, Jean let herself have a little cry. And when she'd run out of tears for the time being, she dried her eyes and her cheeks and took a few deep breaths, and she felt better. That was quite enough self-pity for today.

She got up and went to the kitchen. It was nearly time for her to start thinking about what to make for dinner. On her way to the refrigerator, Jean looked again at the note sitting beside the phone, for it made her smile.

_Jeanie, I got a call from the police. Nasty business, this one. I'll be home for dinner. I love you. Kiss the children for me. –Lucien _

Oh that husband of hers was wonderful, wasn't he? But of course, he was off dealing with whatever nasty business the police had for him this time. He wasn't here with her, to take her in his big strong arms and hold her and kiss her and remind her of all the good things in the world. She was capable of quite a lot on her own, Jean knew, but one of the best things about be married and having this second chance at a happy family was that Jean did not have to do it all alone this time. And she did not want to be alone now.

Ah well, he'd be home soon, surely. Jean took the chicken out and began to dress it.

Lucien did come home very shortly thereafter. Jean had only just put the chicken in the oven and had been about to go wake Johnny from his nap. The front door opened and Lucien called out to her.

She appeared in the foyer and immediately rushed into his arms, hugging him tight. He held her and kissed the top of her head. "Oh dear," he murmured. "Looks like the both of us could use some cheering up."

Jean nodded against him but did not want to say anything just yet, wanting only to be held by him.

"I've got just the thing. Come on," he prompted. Lucien took her hand and led her to the parlor. He had a flat paper bag and took what looked like a record out of it.

"What's that?" she asked.

"You'll see." He took the record out and put it on the player, turning the volume up slightly. "This is Side B, but I wanted to start here. Come dance with me," he said, holding out his hand to her.

After a slight crackle, the song began. It was a horn section and accordions and a tambourine that Jean recognized from the single playing on the radio. And then voices she knew very well began to sing. Lucien saw her recognize the song, and they both smiled. He took her hand again to dance with her.

Jean let her husband lead her in a nice swaying dance as he softly sang the chorus of the song to her. "God only knows what I'd be without you."

When that song was over, another Beach Boys song came on. Lucien stopped dancing and leaned in to kiss her softly. Jean hummed happily against his lips.

"It's been an awful day, but I wanted to come home to you and have a bit of something nice," he said.

"I feel the same way," she replied, kissing him again before burying her face in his shirt.

"Let me go see the children and we can all have a nice night, and later, let's you and I talk, alright?"

Jean nodded and pulled away at last. She had to finish the potatoes and the salad for dinner anyway.

The four of them sat down for dinner, Lucien having woken Johnny from his nap and spent some time with Valerie before bringing them all downstairs. Both of the children had benefitted from the quiet of the afternoon and were their usual pleasant selves for dinner. Valerie, little chatterbox she was, told her father all about their day going to all the different shops and all the things she hoped to get for Christmas.

Johnny, meanwhile, was rested enough now to have his very focused mind back on its singular purpose that had plagued the family for weeks. "Daddy, if it's hot again tomorrow, can we go to the lake?"

Jean sighed quietly, knowing what the answer was going to be and absolutely hating it. Johnny loved the outdoors and loved running and playing and anything active, and the summer before, the family spent the day by the lake. Valerie and Lucien had gone swimming and Johnny was desperate to go with them, but he was too small and Jean was worried about him, so they promised that he could learn to swim after he turned four. And now, practically since the day of his birthday, Johnny had been begging his father to teach him to swim.

"We can't go tomorrow," Lucien told him regretfully. "I've got a case with the police I've got to work on. But as soon as it's solved, we can spend the day at the lake, alright?"

Johnny nodded politely but was clearly pouting. Jean resolved to try and cheer him up during bathtime after dinner. Lucien and Valerie always did the washing up while Jean gave Johnny his bath and put him to bed and read him a story till he fell asleep. Valerie, being four years older, got to stay up a bit later and got to watch television after the dishes were done until Jean came to give her a bath and put her to bed as well.

When the children were both settled and asleep, Jean finally got to have some time alone with her husband before bed. They sometimes would have a drink by the fire in the winter or collaborate on one of his cases in the study if he needed assistance or sit out in the garden during the warm summer nights. This particular summer night, however, Jean and Lucien got into bed early.

Lucien pulled his wife into his arms and kissed her temple. "What put you in such a mood today, my darling?" he asked softly.

Jean grumbled a bit, not liking to remember. "Well, you heard Valerie at dinner being so excitable about what she wants for Christmas? She was like that all day but with more running around shops and shouting."

"Oh dear," Lucien commiserated.

"And things took longer than I anticipated and Johnny got too tired."

"Tantrum?"

"One of his best, unfortunately."

"That would make for a stressful day, certainly."

Jean snuggled against him a little closer. "I don't want them to grow up too fast, but I'm far too old to keep up with them some days." She intentionally did not mention the mistake made by the woman in the shop, thinking her to be Valerie and Johnny's grandmother.

"You're only as old as you feel," Lucien told her, repeating an old, useless platitude.

"I feel bloody ancient," she muttered.

He chuckled, trying to inject a little good humor. "Well, you'll always be younger than me, if that helps."

Jean hummed and chose not to tell him that no, it did not help. But that was quite enough of that for now. The topic was depressing her again. She shifted in his arms. "What about this new case. You said this one's difficult?"

"Mmm," he affirmed. "Do you know the Carter family? They've got a farm a few miles up the road from yours."

She frowned, trying to recall the name. "I don't think I knew that family. The old Williams farm was sold a while back. That might have been bought by your Carters?"

"Perhaps." Lucien continued, "Anyway, father and mother and daughter all shot dead."

"Oh how awful!"

"And even worse, Mr. Carter was the one found holding a gun. Looks like he may have shot his wife and daughter and then himself."

Jean was in a slight state of shock at the very idea of it.

"The parents, George and Margaret, were older. Neighbors apparently thought they were very nice. And their grown daughter, Linda, was very devoted to her parents."

"Those poor people. Any idea what happened?"

"Not yet. I didn't go to the morgue with the bodies today. It was a bit too much, so I told Alice I'd come by tomorrow and I went to the record shop instead."

Jean tilted her head up to press a gentle kiss on his neck. "I'm glad."

"Yes, me too. But there is another troubling part of this case."

"Oh?"

"The Carters had a son. Kenneth. Twelve years old. And he seems to have vanished without a trace."

"Do you think he witnessed the deaths?"

"I don't know. I hope not. He may have discovered the bodies and run away. Trauma creates unpredictable reactions. But the police are going to search for the boy and I just hope he's alright."

Jean sighed sadly. "You're right, this is a difficult one."

"I've had a lot of difficult cases. And I've seen a lot of terrible things. But I've never had a haven like I do now, a home and a family to soothe the pain of the world. Jean, you and our children are the greatest balm on my soul. I couldn't survive half the things I've seen if I didn't have you."

She smiled up at him. "For better or worse, Lucien."

His expression of adoration matched hers. "I love you so very much."

The Blakes fell asleep that night wrapped up in each other's arms, the cocoon of their embrace shielding them from the harsh realities they'd have to face in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite the evening with Lucien making her feel slightly better, Jean hardly slept that night. She could not get her mind to quiet down. Over and over and over she saw that store clerk's expression in her mind's eye, that look of surprise and confusion when Jean had said she was Valerie and Johnny's mother. She looked like their grandmother, and that's what people saw when they looked at her with her children. They were both so young still, and perhaps Valerie had not yet noticed, but surely it would cause problems for her later on, having a mother who looked so old. And Johnny, too. He'd have it even worse. And Jean knew she could not turn back the hands of time and make herself younger, but surely there had to be something she could do to help?

The next morning, Jean was a bit quieter than usual. She had only told Lucien that she had not slept well and was a bit tired, and he accepted that answer. Thankfully, he entertained the children during breakfast, keeping the kitchen clear and quiet for her until she called them all for toast and eggs.

"I have two patients this morning, I think?" he said between bites.

Jean, who had not yet sat down, checked the daybook by the phone. "Yes, Mr. Donlan at ten and Mrs. Harper at eleven thirty," she informed him.

Lucien nodded. "Good. That'll free the afternoon up for me to check in with Alice and perhaps do a bit of digging."

"And I've got my appointment at the hairdresser's at eleven," Jean reminded. "I'll be back before you're finished with Mrs. Harper."

With that, he finished his food, put his plate in the sink, and took the rest of his coffee into his study so he could collect patient files and review them before the appointments. Valerie and Johnny ate happily with their mother. The both of them were growing rather well-behaved with their table manners, which pleased Jean immensely. It was perhaps a remnant of her life before being a respectable doctor's wife, but Jean valued proper etiquette anyway. The privileged of the world, she'd learned, could get away with things. The lower classes as well. Wealth excused a great number of sins because people respected the wealthy anyway. Poverty excused a great number of sins because people did not expect any better from the poor and manners wouldn't have changed that. But being middle class—barely middle class, in Jean's case—demanded good manners. How else could anyone be taken seriously? Show themselves as above their lowly station in life? Manners were, for Jean, the protection from scorn and the elevation from indignity. And even though her children were growing up wanting for nothing, she did not want them to be spoiled. They would learn manners and learn them well.

Johnny then asked if he could play in the garden, and Jean, who needed to do some laundry anyway, told him he could. Valerie had a book she was reading and brought it outside with them. The three of them had quite a nice morning with Valerie sitting under a tree to read, Johnny kicking the football all over the place, and Jean hanging the wash while kicking Johnny's ball back to him when it got close to her.

At quarter to ten, Jean called the children to come back inside with her. Lucien's patient would be in any minute, and Jean liked to greet the patients when she could. She settled Valerie in the parlor with her book and turned on the television for Johnny for a little while. Mr. Donlan arrived right on time, and Jean led him to the surgery and called for Lucien. When he left, Jean made the follow up appointment for Mr. Donlan and sent him on his way.

"Right, I'm off. I should be back in about an hour," Jean told her husband.

He smiled and kissed her cheek. "Enjoy. I'll check on the children and handle things with Mrs. Harper."

And Jean went out in the car to go down to the beauty parlor. She went once a month to get her hair professionally washed and trimmed and styled. Her hairdresser, Melanie, was a charming girl, always asking about the children and then talking for the rest of the hour about whatever current drama she was having with her boyfriend. Jean found is all rather fun. Most of her life, she'd done her hair herself. Only once she'd been engaged to Lucien had she even stepped foot into a salon. Actually, that wasn't true. She had come once, many years before, to get her hair curled and pinned for her wedding to Christopher. Despite being terrified and pregnant, Jean had, even then, known what a marvelous luxury she'd been treated to.

Today, however, Jean was not really in the mood to see Melanie. She highlighted, to Jean's mind, the stark reality of age. Melanie was young and bright and beautiful. And all those things about Jean had faded with time. So much so that she'd been mistaken for the grandmother of her own children.

"How are you today, Jean?" Melanie greeted pleasantly.

"I'm alright, Melanie, how are you?"

"Great, thanks. The usual today?"

Jean opened her mouth to say yes but closed it again quickly. Somewhat impulsively, she said, "Actually, I was thinking of something different for today."

Melanie's face lit up. "Different? Like what?"

"I know you're always looking for better ways to cover my gray…how about coloring my hair today? And not just touches, but how about all-over color?"

Those words, it seemed, were the best thing of Melanie's whole week.

All through the process, Melanie went on and on about how wonderful Jean was going to look, how fresh and beautiful and young. And that was all Jean could focus on as she sat there, mildly horrified over what she'd done. The color was quite pretty, she had to admit, but it would certainly take a lot of getting used to. But she also could see how the change eliminated the gray hairs and seemed to soften the wrinkles somehow as well. She really did look younger. Not as young as Melanie, certainly, but young enough to not get confused for Valerie and Johnny's grandmother, perhaps.

Jean drove home feeling extremely pleased with herself, all in all. It was a big change, but hopefully a good one. She could not wait to see the surprise on her family's faces. And she very much hoped they liked it. Jean did not quite feel like herself, but if they all encouraged her, she could definitely get used to it.

But Lucien was busy with his patient when she arrived home. Valerie and Johnny were watching something on television together and did not even turn their head when she came home. She said hello and they both just answered "Hi, Mummy" distractedly. Ah well. They'd notice soon enough. Jean went about her chores for the day. Valerie had gotten a tear in one of her dresses that needed repairing. Johnny was growing out of his clothes, so Jean needed to go through and take out things that didn't fit him anymore. At least one of Lucien's waistcoats was missing a button. She'd spend the afternoon going through everyone's wardrobes and taking stock.

The telephone rang just as Lucien sent Mrs. Harper on her way. He answered it himself, since he was right by it anyway. It was Frank, asking him to come to the station to sit in on an interview. He said he was on his way and hung up.

"Jean?" he called out.

"Upstairs," she called back. She had a huge pile of Johnny's clothes in her arms and did not fancy dropping them all to rush to her husband's beck and call.

"I'm headed off to the station. I'll be home for dinner," he told her, shouting up the stairs.

"Alright!" Jean replied.

Lucien grabbed his hat and car keys after kissing the heads of each of his children and telling them, "Be good for Mummy."

The television program they'd been watching was over shortly after that. The news came on and the children were not in the least interested. Valerie turned it off and went back to her book. Johnny decided to go upstairs and find Mummy. He went upstairs and heard noise coming from his room. He went in and found the strangest sight.

Someone was going through his clothes in the wardrobe. Someone who was not Mummy. Johnny immediately got quite upset at the entire situation and screamed.

Jean whirled around and found her son shrieking at her. "Johnny, what's the matter?" she asked in a slight panic. She went to take him in her arms and he dodged her.

"Where's my mummy?" he demanded.

"I'm right here, sweet boy," Jean told him, getting down on her knees to be closer to his eye level. "It's me, it's Mummy."

"You're not! You're not my mummy!" he cried.

At this point, Valerie had come upstairs to see what was going on. Immediately, she understood what he was going on about and jumped right in to calm him down. "Johnny, it's Mummy," she assured her brother.

"No it's not!" he insisted.

She took her brother in her arms and tried to calm him down. "It is," she promised. "Mummy's got blonde hair now. Like a princess. Isn't that nice? We have Princess Mummy now."

Jean could not help but feel somewhat mollified by that. Princess Mummy, what a thing. "My hair's a different color now, Johnny, but I promise I'm still your mummy. You know my voice, don't you, love? And my face and everything else? It's just my hair that's different," she said.

Johnny began to calm down slightly. He sniffed back tears and wiped his eyes and took a closer look at Jean. His sweet little face was still quite dubious. "Why do you have princess hair, Mummy?"

"I got it colored today. I know it's different, but isn't it pretty?"

The little boy nodded. "Pretty princess."

Jean smiled. "Can I have a hug, please?"

Johnny pulled away from Valerie and stepped into his mother's embrace. Her smell was just the same. Her hug was just the same.

Valerie left her mother and brother, choosing to go back downstairs to read her book. Jean went back to going through Johnny's clothes, this time with his help to tell her what things he liked and wanted to keep and what things he didn't. The drama over her hair was over with and her pleasant little boy was just as he always was.

Later that day, Lucien was racing home so he would not be too late for dinner. The police had found Kenneth Carter, and Lucien had spent hours and hours with the boy. He would not say a single word. He was informed of the death of his father and mother and sister, and he had no reaction. He was asked if he'd seen anything. No response. He was asked why he'd run away—they'd found him in an abandoned barn three miles away—and he did not answer. Lucien had called Alice to try to find some evidence of anything on the bodies, but the deaths were just from gunshot wounds. The one rather interesting thing, however, was the death of George Carter. The gun he was holding had not been fired. And the angle of the shot to his head was not one that could have been self-inflicted. George Carter had not killed his family. Someone else had slaughtered all of them. And, just as curious, the pistol George Carter had been holding at his death was one of a set. Bill Hobart had found the case in Mr. Carter's desk with place for two pistols. The other had not been found. The mystery was growing darker and more twisted with each new fact discovered and Lucien needed some clarity on it. And when he needed clarity, there was only one way to find it: Jean.

"Sorry I'm late!" he called out as he came into the house.

Jean smiled, eager to see his reaction to her new blonde hair. "We're just sitting down," she replied, waiting for him to come into the kitchen.

Lucien had no idea that he was about to get the shock of his life. He came into the kitchen, intent on greeting his children and kissing his wife after a long and strange afternoon when he froze. "Oh…Jeanie…" He gaped at her with wide eyes. Her hair, her beautiful soft chestnut hair had been transformed. Gone was that shiny brown that he was so used to. Instead, she was now a bright, brassy blonde. Her whole countenance seemed brighter. Her turquoise eyes and pale skin were less striking than before, but her whole face was softer with the blonde. It was still Jean, of course, but she looked so wildly different. "I…blonde…" was all he could say.

A small laugh escaped Jean's lips. "Do you like it?" she asked.

Johnny chose that moment to interject, "Mummy's got princess hair now!"

That took Lucien out of his confused daze. He smiled and crossed over to get a closer look at his wife. "It's certainly different," he said. He leaned in to kiss her softly. "Seems I'm married to a princess now," he murmured.

That response pleased Jean more than she could say. After Johnny's screaming and crying, being greeted with happy surprise was quite nice. They all sat down to eat and chatted pleasantly, though it did not escape Jean's notice that Valerie was uncharacteristically quiet through the meal.

After dinner, when Johnny and Valerie both had their baths and went to bed, Lucien asked Jean to join him in his study. He needed assistance with the case and wanted to go over it with her. They each had a glass of scotch and sat across from each other at his desk.

Lucien went through the developments that they'd learned and asked Jean's opinion.

She was quiet for a moment, thinking. She took a sip of scotch and asked, "How old were the Carters?"

"George was fifty, Margaret forty-eight, Linda twenty-eight, and Kenneth is twelve. Why?"

Jean pondered that for a moment. Perhaps it was her own recent troubles that swayed her, but the idea would not leave her mind. "And you're sure that Kenneth and Linda are brother and sister?"

Lucien frowned. "Why wouldn't they be?"

"If Kenneth is twelve, Margaret would have been about thirty-six when he was born. Not unheard of, obviously. But Linda would have been sixteen. And she was now twenty-eight and unmarried and living at home. I know farm life, Lucien, and that's quite unusual. What if…what if Linda was Kenneth's mother? If she dallied with a man who left her or perhaps found out she was pregnant and ran off? To save the family from scandal, the Carters may have hidden Linda away until she gave birth. Maybe moved to Ballarat right after she recovered, and held Kenneth out as their son, Linda's brother. Kenneth himself wouldn't have known. But…what if he found out? What if he figured out that his whole family lied to him, that the woman he believed to be his sister was actually his mother, that his mother was his grandmother and his father his grandfather?"

Such a thought had not even occurred to Lucien. But the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. He'd met Kenneth now. And Kenneth Carter looked like Linda. Enough to pass off as her brother, but enough that perhaps he was her son. "So what do you think happened?" Lucien asked, having a very good idea what Jean was getting at.

She frowned at him. "I think that a shock like that, for a child who might have been troubled already, might have been enough for him to fly into a rage and get one of the pistols his father—grandfather—kept in a case in his desk."

Lucien fell quiet at that. He sipped his scotch and gazed at his beautiful blonde wife. Her lovely face was as troubled as his own mind. He did not want to admit the horrifying possibility that perhaps she was right.


	3. Chapter 3

Jean brushed her hair before bed that night as she always did. But it felt quite different to do so when her hair was a bright shining blonde. Even in low lighting and with all her makeup removed, Jean had to marvel at how much younger she looked with the blonde hair. It was like looking at someone else's face. Princess Mummy, as Johnny had called her. She did not feel like a princess, and she did not feel like herself. But she wanted a change and she wanted to look younger, and both those goals were accomplished.

Lucien came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth and watched her in the mirror. She looked up and caught his eye and saw a certain glint with which she was quite familiar. It was the same glint that gave them two children and countless nights of immeasurable passion. And Jean smiled to see her husband still looking at her that way.

He came closer and kneeled down behind her chair. His lips feathered over her bare shoulder and up her neck before he nibbled at her earlobe, causing Jean to whimper softly.

"I take it you like the blonde," she said a bit breathlessly. "You didn't say before."

Lucien hummed against her skin, moving to the other side of her neck. "I've got a brand new wife. I think it's time I try her out."

Jean tried. She really did. She knew the jest in which her husband spoke those words. She knew what he meant, that she looked so different. He meant well. And she tried to take him at his intent. But she tried to no avail. About two seconds after Lucien spoke, Jean jerked away from him and stood up.

Poor Lucien did not understand what was going on at all. Jean was there and then she wasn't. And she was standing and looking at him with terrible flashing eyes. "Jean? What's wrong?" he asked, mildly afraid of what had caused this abrupt shift in their mood.

"I wasn't aware you were in need of a new wife," she snapped.

"No, of course not," he scoffed. "That's not what I meant."

"Well you seem quite pleased at the idea of having a new wife. A newer model, perhaps? Someone young and vibrant and beautiful? Some pretty blonde thing?"

"No!" Lucien protested. "Jean, I…"

But she did not let him finish. "I am going to take a bath. I think you should be asleep by the time I come to bed," she warned.

And with that, Jean closed the bathroom door firmly behind her, leaving Lucien standing quite bewildered and starting at where she'd previously stood. The sound of the water filling the bathtub drowned out the panicked ringing in his ears.

How could she ever think such a thing? Had he ever, in all their years together, given her any cause to doubt his devotion to her? Lucien knew, at least for himself, that no woman had ever swayed him after he'd fallen in love with Jean. And no woman ever could compare. There was no woman in all the world who could match her kind compassion, her practical intelligence, her sharp wit, her elegant grace. She had lived in worlds so different than what he had ever known, and he loved her all the more for it. She opened his mind and his heart when he'd kept them both very closed off, in his way, for over a decade. There was no one in the world who could ever possibly compare to all that Jean meant to him. And, though just Jean herself and his feeling toward her were more than enough, she was the mother of his youngest children! Never mind that he was not the sort of man to betray his wife, he was not the sort of man to ever put his family in jeopardy. Certainly not after all the heartache he had survived to find them and to build this beautiful life.

Lucien found the sudden absence of sound from the faucet being turned off to be quite jarring. He wished he could go into the bathroom and sit on the floor beside Jean and gaze at her as she relaxed in the water. Or better yet, strip off his pyjamas and join her in the bath. Both of those things he had done before. But her instructions had been quite clear. She did not want to see him or speak to him anymore tonight. She had never and would never kick him out of their bed over a disagreement, nor would she herself choose to not join him in bed at night for any reason. But this was the closest they'd ever come to such a thing.

He crossed to the door and spoke through it. "Jeanie, I am sorry. I spoke foolishly, and I upset you. I never want to do that. I'll have to get used to your hair this way. It's just very different, and I'm so used to seeing you as you were. But no matter if your hair is brown or blonde or white or completely gone, I'll love you just as I always have. And maybe tomorrow we can talk about this. I'll leave you to your bath and I'll not bother you anymore tonight."

Inside the bathroom, Jean pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from sobbing out loud. It was not Lucien's fault that she was so uncharacteristically sensitive about all this. And she should talk to him. But she could not face it now. Not tonight. Perhaps tomorrow they could discuss it and make things right. Until then, Jean sat in the bath with her knees curled up to her chest and let herself cry over her own vain, foolish, selfish behavior and hoped to find a way through it.

Lucien was not asleep when Jean came out of the bathroom and got into bed beside him. He did not turn over or try to speak to her, though it killed him to be restrain himself that way. But as she settled down, he did hear her whisper, "I'm sorry."

The next morning did not go as anyone expected. Lucien and Jean awkwardly avoided each other, neither acknowledging what had occurred between them the night before and both treating the other with a distant cordiality that broke their hearts.

Johnny was in an energetic mood, which helped the tension between his parents. He was quite enamored with Princess Mummy and began doing one of the things he did best: coming up with stories. Valerie had begun speaking much earlier than her brother had as a baby, but now that he was talking, he talked up a storm, much more than she did. He wanted stories all the time, whether it was something he came up with his marvelous imagination or something his mother read to him from one of his storybooks. And now he regaled the family with a fanciful tale of how a beautiful princess came to Ballarat and she chose this house to use as her castle and she turned a whole room into a magical indoor garden full of flowers as big as his head.

Jean listened and delighted in her little boy's excitement. Obviously he had gotten over the initial shock of her new hair and came to like it. She really did need to talk to Lucien as soon as breakfast was done. Only then could they all move on to normalcy.

As Jean cleared the breakfast dishes, Lucien went to make a call to the police—he was convinced by Jean's theory of the Carter family and wanted to find out where the family moved from so he could get Kenneth's birth records.

Johnny went to go watch television. Usually, Valerie was just as eager and energetic to start the day, to get back to the book she was reading or go play with her brother. But there was a heaviness about her today that concerned Jean. She'd been quiet yesterday as well. Lucien was in his study on the phone, so the girls were alone in the kitchen.

"Valerie, is something wrong?" she asked.

"No," Valerie lied.

Jean knew better, of course. She turned off the sink and sat down beside her daughter. "You've been very quiet, sweet girl. If something is wrong, I hope you can tell me. I just want to help make you feel better if I can," Jean offered gently.

Valerie searched her mother's face and her eyes filled with tears. She got up from her chair and climbed onto Jean's lap and cried into her blouse.

"Oh Valerie, oh sweetheart, what's the matter?" Jean cradled her daughter and stroked her chestnut curls.

She lifted her head, putting her fingers through Jean's hair. "You have blonde hair, Mummy."

"Yes, I do. You don't like it?"

Valerie wiped her eyes and frowned. "You look really pretty. Johnny loves Princess Mummy."

"Well that's fine for him, but I'm just your mummy no matter what. Tell me what's wrong with my hair, Valerie," Jean pressed, wanting to cry along with her daughter over whatever was hurting her so.

"Johnny and Daddy have blonde hair. And everyone says Johnny looks like Daddy. But before, I had brown hair like you and we matched. Now I don't look like anyone."

Jean felt absolutely sick. She pulled Valerie into her embrace. "You are still our daughter. You look like me and like your dad and like your brother. But you are absolutely right, you and I used to match, and we should match." Jean kissed her little cheeks. "Tell you what, how about you and me go to the hairdresser today? We can see if Melanie can make us match again."

"Really?" Valerie asked in amazement.

"Yes, really."

And that was all there was to it. Jean could not have cared less how old she looked if it sacrificed her daughter feeling like she belonged. Valerie had Jean's hair color exactly. Jean was a fool to sacrifice such a precious gift.

The two of them got up from the table. Jean took Valerie's hand and went with her to Lucien's study. They waited as he finished up on the phone. "Hello, my lovely ladies," he said with a wary smile.

Jean held her head up and arched her brow. "I'll need you to keep Johnny with you today, please. Valerie and I are going out for a while," she informed him.

"Of course. Have a good time."

And with a curt nod, Jean took Valerie with her. They drove to the hairdresser where Melanie thankfully had some time free. Valerie got treated to having her hair washed and dried with her natural curls all shiny and glorious. And Jean sacrificed the health of her own hair by insisting on getting it colored again. To the color that matched Valerie's. And when Jean saw herself in the mirror with her daughter beside her, seeing that they both had the same color hair again, she smiled. She unfortunately looked her age. But she felt like herself again.

Lucien, meanwhile, had to call young Peter to give him a ride to the police station with Johnny, since Jean took the car. Bill Hobart had gotten additional information, and Lucien wanted to speak with Kenneth Carter again. Johnny had a lovely time sitting at Uncle Frank's desk while his father was busy. Chief Superintendent Frank Carlyle had been a cricketer in his day and now took great pleasure in wagering on the cricket. Johnny loved sport of all kinds and was enthralled at hearing Uncle Frank tell cricketing stories. Lucien was quite confident that his son would be happy and well looked after just where he was. He ruffled his curly blonde hair and headed down to the holding cell to see the Carter boy.

"Good morning, Kenneth," Lucien greeted softly.

The boy was sitting on the cot, staring into space. Lucien himself had done just the same thing when he'd been in that holding cell many years before.

When Kenneth did not answer, Lucien continued, "I learned something that I wanted to ask you about. You were born in Mildura, isn't that right? But your family moved here when you were three, is that right?"

Kenneth looked at Lucien slowly and nodded ever so subtly.

"Why was that?"

"Farm," Kenneth muttered.

"Your father bought the farm in Ballarat, yes. Only…he bought the farm so that your family could move out of Mildura. And you learned that recently, didn't you?"

Kenneth had a look of fear in his eyes. And a look of something else.

Lucien continued to push. "George Carter wasn't your father at all. Because Linda wasn't your sister. She was your mother. Your birth certificate doesn't list a father. So George and Margaret decided to treat you like their own child."

"They _lied_," Kenneth hissed.

That look Lucien had seen before had taken over. It was a look of pure terrible rage. "Yes they lied, to protect you and Linda and your whole family. And what did you do about it?"

"I know where Dad's guns are. And I know how to use it. And he couldn't stop me. He can't do anything to me anymore," the boy snarled.

"Kenneth, why did your family have to die?" Lucien asked, his stomach roiling at the very idea of it.

He sputtered, overcome by his first outpour of words and emotions for the first time since this whole ordeal began. "They…they lied!" he repeated angrily. Kenneth Carter leapt up from where he sad and raced toward the bars of the cell and rattled them with all his strength. "THEY LIED!" he bellowed.

The commotion prompted Peter and Bill to come running. Lucien insisted they give the boy time alone to calm down and to leave him be. Kenneth was indeed a disturbed boy and would be prosecuted for the senseless slaughter of his whole family. Lucien could not help but borrow some of his wife's Catholicism and wish for God to have mercy on their souls.

Lucien took Johnny home right away. They walked together, not needing to bother the police for a ride back. Johnny liked to be outside anyway, walking and running and playing. And Lucien liked spending time alone with his boy. "I have patient appointments tomorrow," Lucien said, "but how about the next day we go to the lake?"

Johnny's little face lit up. "You remembered!"

"I wouldn't forget a thing like that, Johnny Blake. Your old dad isn't so old that he forgets to teach his boy how to swim!" Lucien laughed.

The whole rest of the way home, Johnny chattered on and on about how excited he was to learn to swim and to go to the lake and all the fun they were going to have.

They found the car parked out front of the house. "Mum and Valerie must be home. Shall we go see Princess Mummy?" Lucien suggested.

Johnny dragged his father in, eager to see Princess Mummy. But as soon as he got to the kitchen, his enthusiasm was gone. "Where's Princess Mummy?" Johnny demanded.

Jean, looking exactly as she had done two days before, smiled at her son. "No more Princess Mummy. I'm just Mum. Is that okay?"

"I guess so," Johnny replied, slightly dejected.

"Johnny, why don't you go find Valerie and tell her about our morning and ask her what she did today?" Lucien was staring at his wife and new that once and for all they needed to sit down and have a talk.

When they had the kitchen to themselves, Jean made them both a cup of tea. "I'm sorry about last night," she began.

"No, I'm sorry," he interjected. "I…well, I certainly don't want a new wife. I want you, Jean, and only you, for the rest of my days. The blonde hair just took me by surprise. You looked so different."

"Younger?"

"Actually, yes."

She sighed and gave a sad smile. "Yes, that's why I did it."

"You wanted to look younger?" he asked in confusion.

Jean sat down at the table with him and steeled herself to say the words out loud. "The other day, when Johnny had his tantrum, the woman in the bookshop mistook me for Valerie and Johnny's grandmother."

"Oh dear," Lucien said in immediate understanding. "I am sorry, darling. I'm sure people think the same of me whenever I'm out with the children."

"But it doesn't bother you. And it's different," she explained. "It's different for men with aging. You could probably father children till almost your dying day."

"Perhaps," he conceded. "But I've no intention of doing so." Lucien reached out and took her hand. "Jean, you are the most wonderful mother in all the world. Our children are safe and well cared for. heyT are brilliant and they are loved and they are happy, and that's all we can ever really ask for, isn't it?"

"Valerie wasn't happy this morning," Jean countered.

"Is that why there's no more Princess Mummy?"

"Yes. She actually started crying over it after breakfast. Thankfully it wasn't the panicked crying that Johnny had yesterday when he didn't recognize me. But she was upset that she didn't look like me anymore and didn't fit in the family."

"Oh no, we can't have that."

"Exactly. And I never really felt like myself as a blonde anyway. I might have gotten used to it after a while, but it's not me. I know you wanted to have a go with a blonde wife, and I'm sorry we didn't get the opportunity."

Lucien squeezed her hand. "No, don't apologize for that. I like your hair so much better this way. The way your eyes are like a beacon on your face with the dark hair. The rest of you was too bright with the blonde. It was lovely, and honestly, Jean, you so beautiful no matter what you do, but I have to admit I like you best just as you are when we wake up in the morning and you're warm and sleepy and without any artifice or barriers." He lifted her hand to his lips.

Jean knew she would still struggle with the same insecurities over her appearance and her age and Lucien's kind words would not change that. But she would remember those words and think of them often. And whenever she did, she would smile.

Two days later, the whole family spent a perfect day at the beach. Lucien taught Johnny to swim. Valerie swam around just enough to cool off and then joined her mother on the blanket under the shade of a tree so that she could read. Jean watched her boys proudly and secretly delighted in the comments she overheard made by others who saw Lucien in nothing but swim trunks and playing with their son and splashing happily.

The sun and exertion made everyone very tired very quickly, and they were back home in the afternoon. Lucien put Johnny down for a nap, and even Valerie wanted to sleep for a little while.

"Alright, he's asleep," Lucien announced, meeting Jean in the hallway after she'd tucked Valerie in. "He did a marvelous job, did you see? Not a moment of fear putting his face in the water. Valerie's a brave one, but even she was a bit hesitant when I taught her to swim. Our Johnny, though, he's fearless." Lucien's glowing pride in their son was quite obvious. "It is exhausting being out in the sun, though. He did much more work than I did but even I'm quite tired."

"Not too tired, I hope," Jean responded with a cheeky grin. She glanced over his shoulder to make sure neither of the children had stirred and then grabbed him by the front of his belt buckle to lead him into their bedroom.

"Oh my, what's brought this on?" Lucien asked excitedly, unbuttoning her blouse as soon as she closed the door behind them.

"I overheard more than one comment about you today. It seems I'm not the only woman impressed by your physique. But you, Lucien Blake, are all mine. And hearing other women want you while you're busy being the most wonderful father to our son only made me want you more," she told him, unbuckling his trousers and pushing them to fall to his ankles. "And I may be old, but I'm not nearly old enough to be indifferent to my husband's gorgeous charms. So I hope you're not too tired to make love to the mother of those children you love so well."

Lucien grinned and growled, "Jean, my darling, if I ever claim to be too tired to make love to you, it'll be time for you to put me out of my misery. You can just smother me with a pillow.

Something about his morbid statement made Jean giggle. Her giggles dissipated, however, when his hands moved over her skin and lifted her up, taking her to their bed. She lay bare before him, amazed by the look of pure lust that covered his face. That beautiful hungry glint in his eye. Jean smiled as he kissed her and felt his tongue trace down her neck and over her breasts and get lost between her legs. Jean could not help but recall that Beach Boys song she loved so much: God only knows what I'd be without you.


End file.
